


for a little while

by cynical_optimist



Series: Stay [1]
Category: Lovely Little Losers
Genre: "angst salad with fluff dressing" apparently, Fluff and Angst, M/M, mention of excessive drinking, realisation of love, stupid boys stupidly in love giving me feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never seen Balthazar so sad, not even when he’d broken up with Damien—that had been resolved, even a little relieved, underneath the sorrow, not like this. This was quieter, more permanent, something bordering on defeat. And Peter had wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms and stave off the attacks of whatever was going on in his life. Also kiss him, but that wasn’t relevant, not really.</p><p>So, despite his better judgement, he had cleared his throat and said, “Well, I can sing with you, if you want.”</p><p>Balth had looked up at him, eyes wide, then smiled. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”</p><p> </p><p>In response to "Stay".</p>
            </blockquote>





	for a little while

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost fluff.
> 
> I am very proud of myself. Enjoy! x
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the aforementioned "Stay".

Peter doesn’t know how he is continually getting himself into these situations.

Well. That’s a lie. He knows exactly how it happens—his stupid, weak heart and his traitorous mouth, ignoring every effort of his brain to _just stop_ because it is a _very bad idea_. He knows why, too.

It is because, when he saw Balthazar looking frustrated and defeated on the living room couch, guitar on his lap and notebook in his hands, he needed to anything he could to relieve that, to see his eyes shining brightly. So, he’d thrown himself dramatically onto the couch next to him, careful of the instrument, and insisted Balth tell him what was wrong.

“I’m, uh, just trying to figure out this song,” he’d said, and his reassuring smile hadn’t quite met his eyes. “It doesn’t sound right, not quite. I think,” he’d hesitated there, just for a beat. “I think it needs to be a duet, you know?”

Peter had nodded, wondering how _anything_ Balthazar produced could sound anything but extraordinary. “So, is Paige coming over to help you?”

“No, no, she has a date with Chelsea.” He had sighed, then, eyes going back to the notebook, and Peter had just stared for a moment.

He had never seen Balthazar so sad, not even when he’d broken up with Damien—that had been resolved, even a little relieved, underneath the sorrow, not like this. _This_ was quieter, more permanent, something bordering on defeat. And Peter had wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms and stave off the attacks of whatever was going on in his life. Also kiss him, but that wasn’t relevant, not really.

So, despite his better judgement, he had cleared his throat and said, “Well, I can sing with you, if you want.”

Balth had looked up at him, eyes wide, then smiled. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Hence his current situation: sitting on Balthazar’s bed, reading over the lyrics and pretending he hadn’t worn a blue shirt for the first line of the song. Balthazar is fiddling with his guitar, not looking at him, and Peter lets himself stare for a little longer. He’s beautiful, of course, but there’s a melancholy set to his mouth that’s been present for what seems like forever.

But it hasn’t been forever, because he can remember laughing with him just over a year ago, before everything went to hell, and it hadn’t been there then. He’d wanted to kiss him then, too, but he’d learnt how to repress those feelings rather successfully. They were platonic bros. They’re still platonic now, despite his stupid crush that won’t quite go away.

He wonders what would have happened if he had kissed him in the flat challenge, ignored Costa’s call and leaned in, screw the game and the rules. He wonders if Balth would have pulled away instead. He wonders what would have happened if he didn’t.

Balthazar looks up at him, and Peter finds himself staring for a moment more before looking down at the lyrics. They’d practiced a few times the night before, just to make sure he could do the song justice, so he’s already set the camera up and it’s ready to go as soon as he presses record.

“I like the song,” he says to fill the silence, and sees Balthazar smile. He really should stop getting himself into these situations, when his heart beats a little too fast and his palms start to sweat like they haven’t since eighth grade and he gave a speech on rubbish around the school and there’s a word on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite decipher. He really likes Balthazar’s smile though, and he never wants it to leave his face.

“Thanks,” Balthazar mutters, and his cheeks are a little pink. “Uh, should we start?”

“Sure.” He presses record and sits back on the bed, a little closer than he really needs to.

“Ready?”

“Alright,” Balth says, and starts playing.

Peter does try not to stare at Balth while he’s singing—he really does. They’re on camera and he’s focusing on the lyrics. Any slip-up will be immortalised. Any stares will be heralded as “heart-eyes” by the viewers. Not that it would be a lie, really. He’s seen the footage. He knows what he looks like, pining after his best friend.

“I don’t wanna go,” he sings, and his gaze catches on Balthazar. Crush, his mind supplies, as he searches for that elusive word, but he’s used that for a year and it doesn’t quite fit, not anymore.

Balthazar looks up at him, a real smile on his face, one that meets his eyes that match Peter’s shirt. It’s a love song that they’re singing, and for some reason that makes his throat dry up. He looks down, swallows.

He has such an amazing voice, and Peter’s never grown tired of it—not when they’re washing up and he’s singing under his breath or when it’s six in the morning and he can barely hear it over the sound of the rickety shower that never fails to wake him when it’s used.

“I can stay,” they sing together, and his heart skips a beat, because they haven’t sung together since December, in that time when they were not quite together but not quite friends but in that limbo in-between, and he’d _liked him so much_. Like. That’s a word, too, that almost fits.

It’s easy to forget, singing a love song, everything that didn’t happened between them. To fill the spaces with fictional words and feelings that only he feels and pretend that they had both made different choices.

Not too long ago, when he’d first started drinking for the sake of forgetting, not just for fun, Balthazar had sat down with him on the couch with a mug of coffee and some Panadol.

“Don’t lie to me,” he’d said, so sadly. “Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

Peter had.

He sings the line, and he thinks, because it couldn’t just be a coincidence.

Because, when everything began to fall apart, Balthazar had told him that he could stay, and he had pushed him away regardless.

“I can stay,” he sings again, and the word _love_ comes to mind, and _oh_. That fits. His heart skips a beat, and he blinks, and he almost misses his cue, and then Balth stops playing.

“Nice,” he mutters, smiling a little. He turns away, and Peter reaches out before he can stop himself, catching his arm.

“I liked it,” he says, and thinks, _I love you,_ and this time there will be no “the song’s hilarious” in the description box.

“Yeah, thanks,” Balth replies, and maybe Peter is being too obvious about his feelings; maybe he’s wrong about the subject of the song. Maybe he’s making a fool of himself. Maybe he’ll look back on the video in ten years’ time and regret every movement he ever made. Maybe Balthazar will never talk to him ever again.

“Really,” Peter says earnestly. “I loved it.”

Balthazar's answering smile reaches his eyes, and that makes it worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have feelings about fictional characters. Find me on [tumblr](http://www.athousandsplendidsunsets.tumblr.com/)


End file.
